Shassie oneshots
by MollyMothbite
Summary: Just a bunch of slashy/fluffy/smutty one shots I wrote when I was super bored. Rated M because of graphic sexual scenes in some of the stories (especially the first one.)
1. Magic Words

Lassiter pushed Spencer against the interrogation mirror, feeling Shawn desperately try to undo the detective's belt. The older man grabbed him and pushed him onto the floor, grabbing his wrists and raising his arms around the leg of the table. Lassiter straddled him as he brought out the handcuffs and looped them around the table leg. The psychic wasn't going anywhere. He ripped open Shawn flannel and grazed butterfly kisses below his navel, knowingly teasing him into a leg locked spasm. He felt Spencer bulge below him and the detective grinned and traced a finger above the denim and caused a quiet but high pitched whine. He let his eyes run up Shawn's bare chest and noticed a pinkish glow with the tan. He knew the younger man liked being objectified but seeing him blush and squirm was a hunger Carlton had never experienced.

In a desperate attempt to speed things up, Spencer thrust his hips up, grinding slightly and trying to find any form of release. Lassiter leaned down over him, nose pressed against his, "Do you want this Spencer?" he asked. Shawn thrust again and Lassiter gave him a small light smack on the cheek, "use your words." Spencer rested his head back, clearly trying to regain some sense of control, "yes." He hissed. Carlton gave a small toothy grin, "yes what?" he toyed and Spencer buckled again, flexing his legs "Yes I want this. Just- let's just…" he thrust again and Lassiter gave him the same light smack on the same side of his face. He trailed his hand down to his chest and then abs, resting at his crotch. The psychic would have to learn a little patience.

"You know what I want you to say…" Carlton breathed into his ear and caused Shawn to shudder completely through his body, and Lassiter could feel the young man hardening further at being told what to do. But he blushed, embarrassed to be so submissive and eager. The older man smacked him again, a little harder- not to injure so much as shock, and Lassiter began to grind, up and down, pushing them together and almost riding him. There was a part of the detective that wanted Shawn to cum in his pants like a 13 year old, to embarrass him. But that would be a waste. All he had to do was beg a little. Shawn thrust his hips up at the friction once more before giving into his pride, "Please detective." He muttered.

"What was that, Spencer?" he asked watching Shawn desperately trying to control himself. Not that Lassiter wasn't struggling himself- watching the young man pink and flustered under him was putting more of a strain on his fly than he'd tell anyone. Spencer looked deep into his eyes, catching the other a little off guard, "Please god, Detective Lassiter. Please _god_ just fuck me."

Lassiter let out a deep growl, kissing down from his neck to his belt. Feeling Shawn rise his hips up and allowing the detective to remove his jeans. Having his dick cupped in hand Spencer was desperately buckling against him as Carlton began to rub. He brought himself down to the others ear and bit slightly, "say it again." He ordered. Shawn had his eyes closed and focusing purely on the sensations that the other was causing, "Please Detective." He begged again, and Lassiter pulled down his boxers and pulled out a condom and some lube from his pocket. Lassiter stood up, taking down his own slacks and letting Shawn watch as he lubed himself up. He watched the handcuffed man groan in agony, lifting his legs a little and the detective didn't try to hide a smirk. He got down on his knees.

"One more time, Spencer."

"Please fuck me, detective." He asked- or more cried, as Lassiter rubbed lube on Shawn's asshole and his own fingers.

"Again."

"Please ffff…" was all he could get out before the first finger went in, stretching him out a little as it made contact with his prostate. Carlton went deeper, his voice gravely as he bent to kiss Shawn's jaw, "Finish you're sentence." He ordered, Shawn opened his mouth again only to let a loud whimper come out as his finger made contact again. He couldn't speak without letting out small guttural howls- "fuck me." He cried suddenly as a second finger went in, and both pressed against him. Spencer buckled and lifted his hips further upward, " _this is amazing"_

Carlton couldn't tell if Shawn had actually meant to say that out loud or not, but he let out a deep throaty chuckle, "Glad you think so Spencer" he mocked, dragging his teeth against his neck. Shawn whimpered louder, embarrassed and in complete pleasure, "I just mea-oh _god_ "

A third finger and Carlton wondered if this might actually kill him, "you ok there psychic?" he asked. Shawn let out a guttural hum to signal how very ok he was. Carlton removed his fingers now Spencer was a little more stretched out and pushed himself inside him. Spencer squeaked, legs locking. He looked up at Lassiter who had his eyes closed and breathing heavily. His shirt and tie still on. Shawn pulled weakly at the tie and Carlton looked down, "d-don't… Don't move a second." He was wincing and the detective was suddenly all too aware this could really be hurting. He was careful not to move a muscle below the waist as he stroked Shawn's brow, "we're in no rush- let me know." He answered simply.

They stilled for a moment, Shawn breathing heavily and Lassiter controlling his urge to begin thrusting. Lassiter ran his hand down Spencer's chest in a petting fashion, "just breathe- you know we don't have to…" he began and Shawn shook his head, adjusting his hips and letting out a quiet moan, grinding on him a little. He nodded quietly, a signal to continue. Lassiter admittedly gingerly moved his hips slowly further into Shawn. He winced a little, letting out a rather feminine moan as the detective held his thighs, lifting them around his hips and spreading him a little further. It was agonisingly slow for Lassiter, but Spencer soon got comfortable and was quietly asking to go a little faster after each thrust.

"If you want something- ask for it." Lassiter suggested coyly, and Spencer let a small grin spread across his face, "f-fuck me faster, detective." He moaned, and Lassiter tipped him up a little, allowing himself further in.

"Magic words?" he asked and Spencer blushed, "Please detective." Lassiter admittedly lost a little of his control, thrusting himself in at the words. Shawn squeaked as Lassiter pulled in and out of him rhythmically, huffing and sweating as it got faster and more intense. He grabbed the young man by the hips, forcing himself further in and grinding until he hit his prostate. Shawn's legs spasmed up around onto Carlton's neck. He let out short whimpering cries and thrusts his hips further up until his dick was a little closer to Lassiter's mouth. The detective almost on instinct stuck his tongue out to lick the bottom on the shaft and kissing the tip.

Spencer let out possibly the most animalistic cry Carlton had ever heard, the mixture of constant pressure on his prostate and Lassiter running his tongue along his dick had proved to be too much as the detective could taste drops of pre-cum between his lips. Hearing that cry and tasting Spencer, as well as the constant rocking inside him brought Lassiter too to the edge. They came together, Spencer filling Carlton's mouth and causing the detective to be grateful for all the pineapples the younger one ate.

"Detective!" he cried as Lassiter let out a deep, heavy moan, digging his nails into the others thighs. He swallowed hard and Spencer squeaked again, gasping slightly as Carlton removed himself from Shawn.

Carlton wiped his mouth and loosely pulled up his pants, lying beside Shawn on the floor. He could never look at him directly after- feeling as though he'd used him. Spencer turned to him though, little out small bursts of laughter, "that was- that was…"

"Amazing?" Carlton instinctively mocked before regretting it. Spencer laughed, "I was going to say intense. You're really good- stupid good at that." He rested his head on his forearms and closed his legs, wriggling a little. Lassiter wasn't looking at him and Shawn Pressed his lips together, "You know- I wanted to right? The whole controlling _magic word_ thing was really hot for me… but…" he began and Lassiter's head whipped around, "did it hurt too much? I could've waited longer but I just…"

"I was just going to say you'll either need to un-cuff me or pull my pants up for me." Shawn grinned. Lassiter dug around for the keys in his pocket and unlocked Shawn, who then pulled up his jeans. They sat next to each other on the floor as Lassiter stroked the back of the psychic's head. Spencer looked at him suddenly and kissed him on the mouth. It was chaste and innocent and exactly what Lassiter needed.

"I want you, detective." Shawn said, without prompt- and for the first time ever: Lassiter believed him.


	2. Bloodless

Spencer went down hard. The perp had gotten away and, more embarrassingly, his leg was trapped under a tree bark. _This_ is why he preferred the city. There were no massive tree roots in the middle of a Santa Barbra suburb. He pulled at his leg and felt a sharp clunk. His leg suddenly felt on fire and he let out a loud and deep howl. How had he fallen under a tree anyway? Humans don't fall on tree roots. He tried to scoot out but there was no room. He pulled his leg and the pain shot up his thigh like a bolt, "I'm going to die in a shitty park" he muttered, trying to shuffle a leg he could no longer move without intense pain.

"Don't be so dramatic." Lassiter called behind her. Shawn didn't know whether he was relieved the detective was there or mortified, "you know- you're not so short that you can dive under roots. You're probably best taking a run up and jumping over them." He reminded him, and Shawn growled. Lassiter slid his hands under his arms and braced himself to pull before Shawn swatted him away; "I don't need your help, I'm _fine_ " he lied. It was obvious his pride was wounded more than anything else. Carlton squatted in front of the psychic, raising his hands; "then by all means spencer: stand up."

Shawn closed his eyes and pulled, his leg clicked again and he winced, gasping and letting out a small whine. Carlton was smirking and he felt his face go red, "you're stuck" he told him.

"I am not!"

"Then get up."

"I can't!"

"Why?"

"Because I'm stuck- shut up." he snapped and he looked at his leg, noticing the odd way it curved, "I think you've dislocated it." His tone was serious and Shawn could feel himself begin to panic. Thinking quickly, Lassiter took of his blazer and pushed up his sleeves. Shawn tried not to notice how good he looked when he wasn't in his full suit. The tree root moved only about an inch, but it was enough for his leg to slide out- his shin bleeding and his leg was jutting at a new and exciting angle. A lot of skin was gone and he could hear an imaginary Gus screaming. He was expecting Lassiter to be his usual calm self, but he looked flustered and queasy when he saw it.

Shawn looked up at him, "you ok, Lassie?" he asked. The detective laughed, "it really shouldn't be _you_ asking _me_ that you know?" not taking his eyes off his leg. He took his tie off and wrapped it tight around the bloody leg, Shawn groaned at the pain, squeezing his eyes shut. He bit his lip trying to work out what to do next, "that- that should stop any infections but you'll need to get to a hospital… I just… my car's a distance and I don't know how to move you."

"You always move me." Spencer laughed.

Wow he was losing a lot of blood. Carlton was looking down at him, massive blue eyes filled with worry amongst Shawn's blurred vision. Lassiter shouldn't worry, he was too pretty. He looked confused, "you're losing a lot of blood." The detective's voice was all echo-y and before he knew it he was lifting Shawn onto his feet. Pain shot up as pressure was applied and he felt himself let out a cry. Lassiter scooped him up, bridal style. Shawn's eyes were glued to him. How was he this strong? He was carrying him to the car like some sort of hero. God he was pretty. Everything was darker but it had been the middle of the day a second ago. Shawn closed his eyes for a second.

When he woke he was in the back of Lassiter's car, feet propped up. Lassie was driving- speeding, actually. The siren was on. He must've been worried about something- maybe there was a break in the case. Shawn looked at his leg, covered- steeped in blood. A litre- maybe two. No wonder he felt like this.

Lassiter glanced back at her, "you're going to be fine." He was whispering and Shawn wasn't sure if he was meant to hear. He hummed in response anyway. The dislocation and the blood were too much for his as he felt himself begin to sleep again. Worried a little, knowing how much pride the detective put in his car.

When he finally woke up properly, Lassiter was reading a paper next to his bed. Shawn wiped his brow and heaved in a breath, not fully remembering what had happened. He'd tripped and fell and felt like a general idiot and then…

"You're up." Lassiter gave a small smile and Shawn nodded, "what happened? I tripped and then I don't remember much."

Lassiter nodded, looking more than a little smug, "You lost almost 2 litres of blood and you're ability to filter what you say- if that was ever something you had to begin with." Shawn felt himself go pale, "what did I say?" he asked. Lassiter grinned, shaking his head, "I don't quite remember. Something's like how I'm 'too pretty to worry' and 'how was I so strong?'…" he paused and watch the psychic cringe, "you also called me a 'hero' it was really quite sweet, Spencer." Shawn was bright red.

"You should've let me bleed out." he muttered and Lassiter cocked an eyebrow, "and miss out on that face? I doubt it." He leaned closer, "if it makes any difference, Spencer: I think you're pretty too."


	3. It Was Dark, Ok?

Lassiter never told anyone he went to gay bars. He never told anyone he was bisexual. It wasn't _repression_ or whatever psych-quacks told him. It was just… personal. It was his personal business what he did with women or men. He knew he liked men the first time he watched The Good, The Bad and the Ugly. Clint Eastwood was a fine specimen and after accepting that, he realised that there were a lot of men who could be _eastwood-worthy_ (though couldn't hold a candle to the cowboy).

Despite all this the club he'd entered tonight was particularly shady; he almost called O'Hara for some form of backup. The lights were ridiculously dim- it was almost pitch apart from some neon glares. Lassiter was almost tempted to go back and get a cliché glow-stick that they were handing out at the door. He stood awkwardly looking back at the door when some young thing grabbed the buckle of his jeans and drag him onto the dance floor. As far as Lassiter could tell the stranger had stubble and a tan, a tight fitting t-shirt and skinny jeans. He was rubbing up against Lassiter, arms around the detective's neck forcing him to move.

In some subconscious corner of his mind, Lassiter could hear Juliet "just go with it." Whispered the imaginary junior detective. Lassiter took initiative and took the young man by the hips, grinding on him slightly. The boy hummed to the music and bent slightly, grinding on Lassiter's leg. The detective let his hands wander down, cupping the stranger's ass and squeezing. It was tight and firm and earned him a slight moan. Lassiter grinned at how easy it was to get the man to groan, "Baby you're so hot." He muttered rather uncharacteristically. He was definitely letting this club- this stranger get the best of him.

The young man grabbed Lassiter by the back of the hair and pulled him down into a kiss. Lassiter took one hand from the grinding ass to hold under a sharp, square jaw. His tongue slipping in and causing small flips in his stomach. The stranger tasted of tropical fruit and sugar, and Lassiter couldn't stop himself from nipping at his tongue occasionally. It would earn him soft, high pitched whines which only drove the detective further. He pushed him against a wall, the shorter man 'oofing' his is back collided with the wall.

Lassiter kissed down his neck, sucking and biting- leaving his mark on this _Eastwood level_ creature. It was then Lassiter felt a bulge press against his leg, one that admittedly matched his own. It was apparent how much they both wanted this. It was heavily unlike the detective to go home with a stranger, but there was something about the small, tight body pressed against his that was driving him a little insane. He raised his head to the others ear, biting a little.

"Let's get out of here." He ordered, and the younger man nodded. He grabbed Lassiter by the hand and dragged him out. They walked outside next to each other and Lassiter turned to kiss the stranger again- eager to see just who he would be inside in a matter of minutes.

Shock and horror do not describe the level of terror Carlton Lassiter felt when a rosy cheeked and swollen lipped Shawn Spencer. They stared at each other for a full minute- feeling like a year. Lassiter was now fully aware of the erection pressing against his jeans- one which Spencer had also noticed.

Shawn grinned, blushing a little, "so… we doing this or not… baby?"

Lassiter felt his stomach drop and he did the only thing he could think of. He ran. It was not his proudest moment as he sprinted away from Spencer as quickly as possible. But it definitely wasn't his most shameful.

No, his most shameful moment was when he got home and jerked off to the memory.


	4. I'm Just a Sweet Transvestite

Shawn was in a skirt. Why in god's name was _Spencer_ in a _skirt_. Carlton watched the 'psychic' prance around in tights and a black leather skirt. Didn't he have any pride? Didn't he care that whenever he bent over the whole station could see- _Jesus were those suspenders?_ Carlton wanted to snap out of it. He wanted to not want to look. But he did. He was. He was watching Shawn bend over in his suspenders, legs slightly apart. His skirt was rising to show the bottom of his ass and the- _that was definitely woman's underwear._ Lassiter turned his head slightly to get a better view of the black lace thong. This was pure temptation. This is how Eve felt when the snake offered her the apple. The tight, young, firm apple.

 _Get a grip, man._ He thought to himself, returning to his paperwork. Though his mind wandered often back to the fishnets. _Why was he wearing them? Was it a 'psychic' thing? What would it be like if he sat on Lassiter's lap and…_

"Hey, Lassie!" Shawn called from in front of him. Lassiter forced himself not to blush as he looked up at Shawn sitting with his legs crossed on his desk. Lassiter cocked an eyebrow, "Spencer what in God's name are you _wearing?_ " he snapped. Shawn got a little closer, "don't pretend you're not attracted to me." He smirked. There was a pause that was far too long to be ignored before Lassiter rolled his eyes and scoffed.

Shawn stood up, brushing down his thigh, "You have to admit. I've got the legs for it. Actually I'm wearing it to get a better reading on our _sweet transvestite_ "

"I didn't realise the thong was part of you're _reading_ "

"I didn't realise you were looking."

Lassiter opened and shut his mouth, unable to comprehend and answer. He rolled his eyes again and buried himself further into his paperwork. He was fully aware the if-ignored-he'll-leave tactic never worked on Spencer, but he had to try something. Spencer leaned close, making a show of his skirt riding up again, "if I'd known you were looking, I wouldn't have worn underwear."

Lassiter was pretty sure his face was actually on fire as Shawn walked away, he looked back to make sure Lassiter was looking and playfully smacked his own ass, making a hissing steam noise as he did so. The detective licked his lips absentmindedly and Shawn smirked.

One way or another, the psychic wasn't going to be wearing that skirt much longer.


	5. FanFiction

"Hey Guster." Lassiter called over. The pharm rep strode over to both detective Lassiter and O'Hara. He raised an eyebrow and Juliet cocked her head, still looking at the psychic in the corner on the computer. She tore her gaze away for a moment, "Shawn's never been this quiet since- well… ever. Is everything ok?" she asked Gus didn't try to hide a sly grin.

"Do you remember a few years ago- the time we went to comic con? Shawn had a few artists knock up pictures of him, me and his dad?" They all nodded, vividly remembering Shawn in tights and a cape. A little too vividly in Lassiter's mind. Gus continued despite the disturbed look everyone had received, "well, turns out a lot of people thought it was a good idea. It's become a sort of indie series of itself. Apparently it's based roughly on Shawn's life. There's a pretty, badass blonde detective called Cordelia and a stern, older, uptight by the book detective called William. Shawn's been reading the comics, looking at the drawings people have done, even reading the fanfiction ever since."

Carlton raised a quizzical eyebrow, "fanfiction?" he asked, Gus smirked a little uncontrollably, "There's a lot of heat with the fans- in more ways than one, with who Shawn's character should go with… the most popular one is with… well, go ask Shawn."

That is exactly what they did, striding over to the man and his laptop Shawn quickly slammed it shut, blushing frantically. Carlton rolled his eyes, "the jig is up you narcissist. We know you were reading about yourself." Lassiter opened up the laptop.

"Hey! Some privacy might be nice. Also who says 'the jig is up' but 70's cops?"

Carlton looked at the screen of ' ' at what Shawn had been reading:

 _ **The psychic was pushed against the wall, fighting for air as William kissed down his neck, biting slightly at the collar bone. There was something about the gunpowder and whiskey that could always drive Shawn to the point ecstasy. William put his hand down the brim of Shawn's-**_

"Oh my god." Juliet let out a startled laugh, "they ship you two. Together. Like an item." She had to cover her mouth for fear of snort laughing. Lassiter backed away slowly from the laptop, as if distancing himself from the work might somehow stop the characters doing what they were doing. He looked from Juliet to Gus and then briefly to Shawn- "it… it doesn't make- why would we? I'm not even gay. Not that there's problem with that I just…"

Juliet hummed out a small laugh, still reading, "well in this one your bisexual." She commented, "It's smart really. Doesn't diminish the relationship's you've had with women…"

"O'Hara!"

"Yeah Jules, come on. There is no way _I'd_ be the bottom." Shawn complained, earning a side eye from everyone around them. He looked more than a little flabbergasted, "If me and Lassie were _doing it_ then I would definitely be the top." Lassiter let out a small laugh, "right Spencer. If we were so inclined it would be me- I would be in full control of our situation."

"Not here." Juliet had now sat down, flicking through different stories and smirking wildly, "here you seem to lose control pretty quick. Apparently, ' _ **William knew it was a losing battle to keep himself from screaming as Shawn bent over and-**_ "

"O'Hara!" Lassiter gaped at her as she let out a small high pitched laugh. Juliet looked up at him, "oh come on. It's funny."

Shawn was blushing madly, feeling his face heat up as Juliet read more out loud and Lassiter stormed off. He was slightly more embarrassed when he bookmarked a few for later.


	6. ThunderStruck

Ever since Lassiter had been framed for murder in the power-out, thunder had made him jumpy. It wasn't a superstitious thing, but he'd never had the best of luck with them. So when a new, louder, closer roll of thunder bled in- Carlton could feel himself twitch. Though he'd never openly admit it, he was grateful Shawn was there. What had started as something physical was becoming more and more intimate. While Lassiter was never _great_ with emotions- Shawn was. So it was easy for both of them to slip into this opposite-attracting thing they'd developed.

The 'psychic' put his arm around Lassiter, who was sitting straight on the sofa, waiting for the next loud nose. Shawn scooted closer, "you know- maybe I could distract you... Even if you are cute when you're scared. " He planted a soft kiss on Lassiter's neck and watched the stress momentarily deflate from him. How did Shawn know exactly where to kiss him every time? He looked briefly at him and tightened his mouth, "I'm not scared- or cute."

Shawn grinned, kissing underneath his jaw and sucking a little, "sure your not- you're a big… tough… cop…" Lassiter could barely hear him anymore, and whether that was because he was buried in his jaw line or because Lassiter was suddenly heavily distracted he wasn't sure. He allowed Shawn to take control, pushing the detective onto his back and hovering above him. Lassiter's eyes darkened as Shawn bend down and kissed him softly on the lips. He opened his mouth and Shawn's tongue went in automatically, caressing him as Lassiter's hands wandered down to his ass, squeezing gently.

Suddenly the loudest roll of thunder crashed, and Lassiter jumped, biting down hard. Shawn howled in pain and sat up, hand covering his mouth. Lassiter could taste blood and he sat up too. He looked at Shawn who's lips had gone red, "I think you busthed my tongue."

"I- I'm sorry. There was a noise and…"

"I thinth you killed ithh!" Shawn sounded remarkably like Sylvester from Looney Tunes and Lassiter had to bite back a laugh, "are you ok?"

"No! You brothe my thongue!"

Lassiter got up and poured Shawn a glass of water. He handed to him and wiped his own mouth. He sat next to Shawn and kissed his cheek, cringing slightly at Shawn's pouty lip and puppy eyes.

Ever since Lassiter had been framed for murder in the power-out, thunder had made him jumpy. It wasn't a superstitious thing, but he'd never had the best of luck with them.


	7. Too Hot (Hot Damn)

It was hot in Santa Barbra. Stupid hot, and in Carlton Lassiter's opinion: unnecessarily hot. McNabb came in with slushies' and ice-cream for everyone which; while Juliet loved, the detective found highly unprofessional. People used heat to behave like animals. Carlton was still wearing his blazer and tie and shirt, and he'd die before he admitted how much we was regretting it. He was in the file room when Shawn Spencer came to find him.

The 'psychic' was in his jeans and trainers… but nothing else. He sauntered into the room with a yellow- presumably pineapple, slushy in his hand and leaned against the cool metallic door frame. Lassiter didn't quite know why he was fighting so hard to keep eye contact with him, but he was sure it was at least 105 degrees hotter in this room than it was upstairs.

"Lassie you're gonna get heatstroke if you keep wearing your suits." He reminded him, "You're face is bright red." The detective rolled his eyes, "I'm fine, Spencer." He grunted sorting through the files and keeping his eyes away from Spencer and his bare, sweaty chest. Lassiter closed his eyes and regained focus because god this heat must be getting to him.

Shawn wasn't taking no for an answer, "really Lass- you're gonna pass out. You're sweating!" Lassiter gave a droll, dry laugh "well of course I'm sweating Spencer you're very hot."

A grin spread across Spencer's face, eye's glinting, "what did you just say?"

The detective recoiled at the realisation of what he'd said, back-peddling and if anything, making himself sound even more guilty, " _it's_ very hot. I said _it's_ hot. The weather is warm- I…" But Shawn had stopped listening, he was grinning so wildly it wouldn't have been so surprising if his face split into two halves.

"You like what you see, detective?" he eyed, eyebrows wiggling and reaching around Lassiter to give his ass a small tap, causing the elder man to jump a little, somehow looking terrified and terrifying at the same time. He pushed Shawn out of the way to get out of the room but heard him calling, "This isn't the last you've seen of me and my hot body."

It was the first time Shawn had been true to his word. The following day was just as sweltering as Lassiter poured over his work while; to his horror, something else poured over it too. Splashes of water smudged and made his hard work completely unusable. He looked up at the culprit to find a shirtless Shawn (somehow in what Lassiter perceived to be slow motion) pouring cold water into himself. It dripped from the edge of his jaw and his nose onto his chest and stomach. He shook his hair like a dog and sent water flying everywhere before pushing it back from his face and letting his eyes settle, "Lassie." His voice was clearly put on deeper and gravely like he was doing an impression of Corey Feldman.

Lassiter was fully aware that his breathing had quickened and his mouth had gone very dry. He regained himself as quickly as possible, "what the hell, Spencer? I'm going to have to do this all again." He snapped; wiping away the water Shawn had gotten on him too. Spencer saw this was reached over to rub his thumb over the water, "Sorry detective- didn't mean to get you all wet."

Neither of the men was certain who shouted "get a room" but they both knew for sure Lassiter was planning on shooting them. Lassiter tried to turn his attention back, "are you hear for a reason psychic?"

"Just to collect my check. Also to give you a little eye candy." He turned and wiggled his hips as the detective pretended not to look. Shawn smacked his own ass and walked toward the chief.

Lassiter considered putting up a "no shirt no service" sign at his desk. But on the third day when Shawn was stood flexing in front of him, the detective was glad he hadn't.


	8. Cuffed

Shawn collapsed on top of Lassiter, who was still handcuffed to the bed. Shawn was panting and breathing hard, both sweating and letting out small chuckles.

"That was…"

"Yeah- it was." The detective looked at the man lying on his chest, and wanted to wrap his arms around him, "Alright Spencer; unlock me." He asked. Shawn looked up and kissed Carlton lightly on the lips, "I mean that was really something else."

"You were something. Now unlock me so I can make you some food after your work out." He leaned his head back between his cuffed arms and smirked. Shawn nodded, "you were so… responsive. God we need to do this more often."

Lassiter looked up as Shawn who wasn't making eye contact, and was now looking around the room. Carlton's brow furrowed together, "I know, Spencer, I was there. Unlock the handcuffs." He ordered. The psychic chewed on his lip and squinted his eyes, "IcantIlostthekey." He breathed out and Lassiter felt himself tense, "Say again?" Shawn got up from straddling him and stood, pulling on his boxers; "I said: I _can't_ I _lost_ the _key_ …" he was whispering and Lassiter went to stand up- the handcuffs doing what they were intending and restrained him.

Shawn knelt beside his shed jeans, rummaging in the pockets. He looked up at the chained detective, "was I wearing anything when we…"

"I don't remember! I was being cuffed to a bed!"

"God it's hot when you say it out loud."

"Spencer! Now is not the time." Lassiter snapped. Shawn fought back a smirk and gave up on his empty jeans and turned to the floor of the room, "I really don't remember what I did with it." Shawn was talking to himself, "it's really not like me not to remember." Shawn allowed his gaze to wander up and down Lassiter's blushing naked form; "But I mean I was distracted." Lassiter had started pulling against the SBPD handcuffs, but they were horrendously well made, "are you still looking for them or are you just watching me?"

Shawn snapped his vision back to the floor, smirking at the memory of how willing Lassiter had been to be submissive; telling him to not think about it and just tie him to _something._ He got down on his hands and knees and began looking under the bed and found his phone in the process. He picked it up and began scrolling for Gus' number.

Lassiter craned his neck, "what- who are you calling?"

"Gus." He stated, and heard Lassiter's cuffs bang helplessly against the rail of the bed, "Do not call him- do not call _anyone_! How would you even explain this?" he was pulling and his wrists were turning red. Shawn shrugged and pressed call, "I'd tell him the truth- he might be able to help us look… oh its voice mail, hang on."

"Spencer! Hang up! _NOW_! And what do you mean you'd tell him the truth… he doesn't… know about us, does he?"

"Of course he does. I tell Gus everything he's my best friend."

"Shawn!"

"What? Clearly I like you more- I've never handcuffed Gus to a bed… Unless you'd be into that."

"That is _not_ why I'm mad. You told Gus? I- will you hang up? He is not helping you look for a key while I am handcuffed to my bed!"

Shawn was grinning, "you know that _that_ was the voicemail right? Like it was on the whole time." He reminded him, clicking the send button as the detective thrashed around in the covers. Lassiter craned his neck up again, "Once I get out of here I swear…" he began and Shawn moved over to him,

He bent down and coked his head to the side, clearly checking out the fuming detective, "you're so hot when you're mad." Lassiter was pulling against the handcuffs again, "then I must look amazing because when I get out of these I'm going to _kill you._ " Shawn threw the covers onto the floor, "maybe it's still in the bed."

Lassiter crossed and re-crossed his legs awkwardly, suddenly very aware how on show he was. Spencer noticed this too, biting his lips and humming slightly. He was having small but very vivid flashbacks of running his hands up his legs; kissing his neck; feeling Carlton thrusting underneath him as Shawn slowly- "Spencer! Stop looking at me and find the damn key."

"I don't know why you're so shy all of a sudden." The psychic climbed on top of him and started looking around the pillows and sheets, "you have to be on top of me to look?" Lassiter asked and Shawn nodded thoughtfully, moving his hips a little and causing Lassiter to let out a small, quick breathe. Spencer smirked, adjusting himself further as he looked.

"Do you have to…?"

"What?"

"Gyrate?"

"It helps me think." Shawn was smiling a little as he was looking, "But I really don't remember what I did with it- unless…" Lassiter looked up, "unless what?" Shawn leaned over the detective, "unless we… retrace our steps…" he kissed him slowly, and Lassiter reciprocated on instinct, "Don't try and- and distract, hmm… distract me from you're major… mis-mistake." He was fully taken by Shawn thrusting a little and kissing his neck. Damn him.

"Shawn I found a copy of the handcuff key we made, just don't tell me what you were use- oh my eyes." Gus dropped the key and buried his fingers into his eyes, turning his back. Lassiter twitched at the voice but Shawn was continuing regardless, "that's great Gus- just hide it somewhere. Apparently that's just as fun."


End file.
